PROFESSOR RUBEK.

IRENE.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

You have a shadow that tortures me. And I have
the crushing weight of my conscience.

IRENE.

[With a glad cry of deliverance.] At last!

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Springs up.] Irene—­what is it!

IRENE.

[Motioning him off.] Keep still, still, still! [Draws
a deep breath and says, as though relieved of a burden.]
There! Now they let me go. For this time.—­Now
we can sit down and talk as we used to—­when
I was alive.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Oh, if only we could talk as we used to.

IRENE.

Sit there, where you were sitting. I will sit
here beside you.

[He sits down again.
She seats herself on another stone, close
to him.

IRENE.

[After a short interval of silence.] Now I have come
back to you from the uttermost regions, Arnold.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Aye, truly, from an endless journey.

IRENE.

Come home to my lord and master—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

To our home;—­to our own home, Irene.

IRENE.

Have you looked for my coming every single day?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

How dared I look for you?

IRENE.

[With a sidelong glance.] No, I suppose you dared
not. For you understood nothing.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Was it really not for the sake of some one else that
you all of a sudden disappeared from me in that way?

IRENE.

Might it not quite well be for your sake, Arnold?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Looks doubtfully at her.] I don’t understand
you—–?

IRENE.

When I had served you with my soul and with my body—­when
the statue stood there finished—­our child
as you called it—­then I laid at your feet
the most precious sacrifice of all—­by effacing
myself for all time.